Barely able to swallow, I shook my head at my best friend.
He understood. “Thank you for understanding, sir. The last ten years have been so hard on us. Tell Mrs. Rossi,” he bit his lip, fighting emotions before, “her boys will be home soon.” Angelo hung up the phone and closed his eyes.
After some quiet moments to compose ourselves, I couldn’t help but feel like we had just been cut off from everyone we knew. Even though I barely got to see them, I knew they were there. Now? My best friend and I were utterly alone. “Angelo.”
His dark eyes snapped to mine, determined. “I have you. Understand?”
I nodded. I would never be alone as long as I had him.
Angelo suddenly rushed to his suitcase. He pulled out an old yellow envelope he kept paperwork in. Two IDs we’d never used before—and credit cards to match the false names—were tossed on the bed. “Get us commercial flights to Idaho with those. I want to be in the air first thing in the morning.”
Alone? Maybe, but we still had a job to do. I snatched up the fake IDs then rushed to my laptop to book flights.
Angelo’s orders continued. “Tonight and tomorrow, let’s pull out the max cash allowed from all our credit cards. Not touching Scarlett’s account, tomorrow we drain bank accounts that are presently being filled. I want us set up for a year if need be.”
“Understood.” My heart was beating so fast. “What do you think is happening?”
In professional mode, Angelo tapped on a different burner phone. “I think we found Scarlett.”
Found… My Dream.
We had been searching for so long—and had failed so many times—that I hadn’t realized how numb I had become to the hopes of finding Scarlett. Now, with everything that had just transpired, that hope rushed back to life. From that dream, I had felt a young woman in need. She was out there, almost in Angelo’s grasp. “Angelo… the dream.”
“I know. I know. Get me those tickets, please.”
Flying privately had a whole different set of rules. “What about our guns?”
“We will have to buy more.”
“Angelo, let’s drive. That way no tickets to follow.”
He paused, then started nodding. “We could have her and be gone before the brothers know what’s happening. Besides,” he eyed the fake IDs, “all those are connected to Giordanos. We have to ditch every trace.” He pointed to my laptop. “Find us a car to buy. Cash.”
On the burner phone, Angelo made a call, pretending to be a businessman who was looking for an elite, secluded rental home in Idaho. He explained he wished for cash-only rentals and would pay ‘handsomely’ for ‘discretion’. A large bonus for the realtor if she made it happen. And, if the owner of the home agreed, Angelo would pay a large deposit that he would not request to be returned as a thank you.
A very excited-to-make-money realtor found us several homes she thought the owners would be happy to oblige, only hours from where we hoped to find Scarlett.
Standing next to Angelo, we examined the rental pics sent to us. I picked one.
Angelo complained, “The most extravagant one?”
It was a stunning home perched on the side of a mountain. The views were unreal, and the kitchen would make my mother think she had died and gone to Heaven. I was drooling to cook in there. “I’m simply trying to help you play the part of a wealthy man.”
He smiled. “You’re lying. Your tastes are far too rich.”
“On someone else’s budget? Guilty. Book it.”
He kept smiling, but told me, “I’m scared.”
There were so many reasons to feel that way. Over half of our lives had been focused on this one moment—finding Scarlett. We never planned on the ‘after’ of this moment. Angelo and I never had the opportunity to live our own lives and may never get the chance. We were about to face sinister people who, if tipped off to who we actually were, would undoubtedly try to kill us. If they succeeded, what would happen to the innocent woman caught up in this madness?
Would all the years leading up to this moment have been for nothing?
Would Angelo’s father’s death have been in vain because we boys failed in this final chance?
Was this the end at all? Or, if we succeeded, would we have to hide Scarlett for years?
Would my best friend and I die trying to save his mother’s soul?
I pulled Angelo into a tight embrace. He held tight, too, as I told him, “I dreamt of you, falling.” His arms tightened. “But then you had black wings that seemed to shine in the darkness.”
Angelo slowly leaned back to see me, shock owning his expression. “Razors.”
After checking out of the hotel in the middle of the night, we took a cab to a small all-night diner on the outside of town. Inside, having an early two AM breakfast, I knew my beauty had arrived when a sleek blue Mercedes parked. Taking a sip of coffee, I told Angelo, “I will name her Blue Night.” This fine car was perfect, missing its VIN number and everything. Even had a license plate that was guaranteed for eleven months.
Angelo took a bite of a donut that I knew he was wishing was a pastry my mother had made. “More of keeping our image alive and well?”
I slid out of the booth, poorly imitating the toothless man from the other night. “Don’t ‘cha just know it.”
As I walked away with a pocket full of cash, Angelo chuckled and mumbled, “Slang will never be your strong suit.”
Angelo was pleased I got the guy to throw in a satellite phone and two burners. After discarding all our Giordano-known cellphones, we picked up a slew of phonecards and used someone else’s social security number. Breaking all ties to home hurt and was terrifying, but it was necessary.
Driving through to Idaho, we were sure to be in cities that had banks we needed by the time they opened. We drained every account but one and also hit ATM machines with our credit cards, then disposed of all the cards and IDs. Our last ways of being traced through the internet were almost gone. The last, Scarlett’s account that, if all went well, would soon also be empty. Angelo linked that account to the satellite phone he would discard once all this was over, if we were alive and able.
Loaded with an obscene amount of cash, we headed to our new temporary home.
The realtor met us there and accepted the cash and a fake signature on a contract we would never abide by. Angelo claimed to have ‘lost’ his phone and gave her his new number. With a knowing smile, she said, “Of course. Happens all the time.”
After a few questions were answered, she offered Angelo her personal cellphone number. “If there is anything you need, please call me. We take wonderful care of our special clients. And your assigned maid, Mae, who is incredibly discreet, will come as often as you like, and can also pick up anything you need. She is resourceful and trustworthy. Returning clients always request her.”
“Can we forward you a grocery list?” I was sure to give a Rossi smile to get my way.
“Of course!” our realtor replied, her own flirty smile shining.
When she left, there was only time to unload the car and hide money in different locations. Which was a shame, because this home was luxurious with a capital L. It had a partially open floor plan. The kitchen was outstanding, and a part of the living room had a black Baby Grand piano and floor to ceiling windows. There was a magnificent fireplace in front of which you could pleasure any willing woman.